This Was Real, This Was Life
by DarkAmaz0n
Summary: The story of Piggy's death, told from Roger's point of view.


A/N: Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing in this case... XD

Warnings: sadism, blood, etc. I've been told it's a disturbing story.

In any case, enjoy!

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High above the rest, Roger looked down upon the drama unfolding below. He watched the actions of Jack, Ralph, Piggy, and Samneric with interest. Piggy and the twins were insignificant, far below him in much more than just the physical sense. They were not even worth his enmity. But Ralph thought he was better than Roger and wanted to spoil his fun. Roger would need to do him if Jack couldn't finish the job. Roger reluctantly took his hand off the lever so that he could lean forward to completely see what was going on down below. This would be fun. 

Roger picked up a sharp stone and threw it between the twins, deliberately missing. He grinned as they started and Sam nearly lost his footing on the shards of pink rock. He felt a slight twinge in his hand and glanced down at it. Blood was welling on a small cut the stone had created. Raising his hand to his mouth, Roger licked the blood away. He closed his eyes and relished the coppery taste. Reluctantly opening his eyes once the blood was gone, he looked back down to the little people below him.

Ralph stood there, arguing with Jack. Piggy sat a little farther down. Roger did not pay much attention to the argument. It mattered little to him who had the specs. He was beginning to get bored when Ralph called Jack a thief. The following screaming match was what re-caught his attention. Soon they were fighting, using their spears as sabers. Roger was interested at first, but his excitement soon turned to disgust. The two of them were too afraid to use the points of the spears! They soon broke apart briefly. Before they could start fighting again, that bag of fat that thought itself a boy intervened, speaking to Ralph. Ralph and Jack began arguing with words again. Disappointed, Roger continued to watch, waiting for his opportunity. He put one hand back on the lever. In not too long a time, Jack was ordering his tribe forward to the twins.

Roger watched avidly as Samneric were tied up. He'd get them later. Jack would want him to, although he would have done it anyway. He'd feel their flesh bruise beneath his hands, hear their screams, see their blood run redly down their skin. Roger slowly licked his lips in anticipation. That night would be fun.

Down below, Ralph charged Jack and they fought. Roger leaned out further and his eyes drank up the sight. The violence excited him and he wished he could be down there taking part in the melee.

The fat boy stumbled forward shouting, still holding that ridiculously out-of-place shell. The fight stopped and all turned towards him. The tribe booed as he held up the conch. Roger sneered as Piggy shouted about how he had the conch. As the tribe fell silent, Roger picked up another rock and threw it at Ralph. It whistled right by the fair-haired head. Frowning at the slight breeze that threw his aim off, Roger tried again and missed again. Ralph was not even paying him any attention!

"Which is better – to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?" What garbage was that fat little nothing spouting now? Ralph wasn't sensible – he was crazy. He talked nonsense about everyone getting along in peace.

"Which is better – to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?" More rubbish. Rules and order were nothing but dreams that brought fleeting hope to those who were foolish enough to believe in them. Pain and violence and death were all that meant anything. They were the only things that were real and could bring pleasure.

"Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?" Now the fat one was annoying him. Was he completely brainless? Rescue would not help them, could not help them. It would only send them back into world of adult superiority and hypocrisy and they would be nothing again. Here he was free to do as he pleased.

Feeling an odd sort of excitement, Roger put his second hand on the lever and leaned all his weight upon it. At first there was nothing. The great red boulder refused to move. Then, with a grinding noise and a great jolt, the rock broke free. It tumbled down the side of Castle Rock. Roger rushed back to the edge and hoped at least one of them would be too slow to get out of the way.

The monstrous rock bounded loudly down the slope and headed straight for Piggy and that fragile, cream-colored conch. The tribe shrieked in surprise while Ralph and Jack dove out of the way. Roger was disappointed but willing to accept a single death. His only worry was that the rock would miss all of them. That concern was in vain.

The rock struck Piggy; the conch shattered into a thousand of tiny white pieces. The false allure of beauty was gone. Roger's eyes widened in pleasure as the fat boy flew sideways through the air. He knew he had the best view of the blood. Only vaguely aware of the rock vanishing from sight among the trees, he watched intently as Piggy fell through the air. Everything seemed to slow and be clearer. Roger was afraid to even blink, for then he would miss some detail and ruin his memory of this glorious moment. He was glad of the lack of sound from the other boys. They must also not have wanted noise to taint the moment.

The fat boy landed on his back on the wide rock below. His skull was split open and his brains spilled out. Blood from numerous cuts turned everything red. He twitched a little, and then was still. Roger's lips parted as he began to breathe faster. This was real; this was life. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in a grin.

The sea sighed long and slow and rolled pink and white over Roger's victim. When the waves receded, they had unfortunately taken the body with them. Roger sagged in disappointment. Now he would not have a trophy for this kill. Then he shrugged and resigned himself to the fact.

"See? See? That's what you'll get! I meant that." Roger turned. Jack was shouting again. Roger's eyes narrowed. He was angry at Jack. Not for trying to take the credit for the rock trap – Roger didn't care about that. He was angry that Jack had spoiled the perfection of the moment as Roger had savoured his kill. But then Jack hurled his spear at Ralph and drew blood. Ralph turned and ran as more spears flew at him, dripping blood from his side. Roger's smile returned. He could forgive Jack. He knew they would hunt Ralph down the next day.

Standing there for a moment, Roger closed his eyes and recalled every wondrous second of the kill. But it was not enough. He needed more. Turning, he headed down towards where Jack was rounding up the tribe.

"Why aren't you on watch?" Jack demanded angrily.

Roger just looked at him. "I just came down –" He did not need to say anything more. Jack averted his eyes and rounded on the twins.

Roger watched with the slightest of smiles on his lips as Jack tried to force Samneric to join the tribe, prodding them with his spear. When Sam yelled in protest, Roger could hold himself back no longer. He moved forward, only barely not shoving the chief aside. Samneric were silent in terror as Roger advanced upon them. Roger continued to smile inwardly. This would be fun.


End file.
